


a spark in your center

by blackalien



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-07-15 10:03:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7218085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackalien/pseuds/blackalien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are a lot of things Anakin Skywalker is willing to ignore. Someone trying to kill his dragon just isn't one of them.</p><p>or:</p><p>There's another stupid prophecy, Anakin and Obi-Wan argue like a married couple, Padmé makes ruling look easy, and Ahsoka saves herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. anakin, i

**Author's Note:**

> soundtrack: [smokestacks by LAYLA](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UPY6Pxvl9UI)

“ _Ana_ kin.”

The wince is almost reflexive. Anakin would know that condescending tone anywhere. “For once,” he begins placatingly, turning around to face his friend, “it’s not _my_ fault that we’re late.”

Obi-Wan, of course, doesn’t believe a word he says. The corners of his mouth slip downward, curling distastefully in the way that it only ever does around Anakin. It may seem disapproving, but it’s seeping into _fond_ territory, if you ask Anakin. “I’m sure,” the General mutters, his unconvinced tone belying his words. “And I suppose it’s not your fault that you didn’t make it to work this morning, either.”

“Yeah, well, I…” He racks his brain for a response, coming up despairingly empty. He failed to check in this morning, a sliver of hope nestled somewhere in his heart that Obi-Wan wouldn’t notice his absence. It was a little more than foolish to act on that hope, but Anakin’s always been a risk taker. (Another one of his flaws that Obi-Wan so _fondly_ points out when given the chance.) Floundering for a response, Anakin blurts out the first rebuttal he can think of. Which, sadly, is, “You’re not at work, either!”

Obi-Wan’s expression dissolves into one of absolute neutrality that _somehow_ , in a way that only he could manage, is still brutal and offensive. Not that Anakin blames him. It’s a weak retort, even to his ears, and he regrets it as soon as it leaves his mouth. “I called off,” Obi-Wan volleys. “Like a _responsible_ adult.” If he’s expecting a response, he doesn’t wait for one. “Where is she anyway?”

— _Oh, no._

At a loss of words, Anakin looks past Obi-Wan, settling his gaze on the wall behind the older man. No one has ever accused Anakin of having an effective poker face. He knows this, yet he tries to make it work anyway. It doesn’t. Obi-Wan’s eyes search his for the answer, and Anakin tries to estimate the distance to the door. The rooms of the palace are all exorbitantly large, even on the first floor. The spare room that they’re tucked away in is already twice the size of Anakin’s entire house, and it’s been categorized as _modest_ in comparison to the other rooms. ( _Modest_ , in this case, implies marble columns instead of ivory, silver lacing in the drapes as opposed to gold, maybe two-thirds the size of the bed chambers. Describing anything in this palace as modest is an insult to everyone who actually knows the definition of the word.) No small distance, but he can clear it in five seconds; eight, at the most. But he would have to duck around the General to make it, which has never worked out for him before. He could also try the window—

Obi-Wan’s expression turns to stone, an angry fire igniting in his eyes, and Anakin can already hear his name preparing to slip out, emphasis on the first half, just to showcase the man’s irritation. “I know where she is,” he lies hastily. “What do you take me for? —Don’t answer that. I wouldn’t lose an entire _dragon,_ Obi-Wan.”

“You _have_ lost an entire dragon, Anakin!”

The important point that Obi-Wan is keen on ignoring is that Anakin’s only done that _thrice._ Some people lose their cats twice as many times in less than a week. Three times in fifteen years is medal-worthy, regardless of what others (read: —well, it’s pretty obvious at this point, isn’t it?) might have to say. His arms fold defensively across his chest, and blue eyes harden to a glare aimed towards his oldest friend. “If you took the day off just to criticize me, you didn’t have to. You do that in your free time anyway.”

“I’m not here for _you,"_ the older man bites back. “This is a special day f—”

Noise floods in through the window: a shriek that borders on laughter, a frightened scream, murmurs of fear and confusion. Anakin turns his attention back to the situation at hand, lips twisting in a smug smirk. “Told you.” An eyeroll is all he gets in return, but he blatantly ignores it, strolling past Obi-Wan and out of the door. He hears disgruntled mumbling behind him as Obi-Wan follows him out.

Once they leave the spare room, they enter the long corridor, lined with looming pillars, sheer cloths draping down lazily between each one. There are intricate designs etched into the walls, some spots filled with tapestries and portraits of previous kings and queens, an even larger picture of the current ruler hanging somewhere further down the hall. The tiles they step on are spotless marble, drawing echoes from even the softest of their footfalls.

When they push past the massive wooden doors at the end of the hall, sunlight hits them right in the eyes, momentarily blinding the both of them. When Anakin’s eyes finally adjust, he tunes back into the screaming of horrified citizens and overjoyed kids and his eyes latch onto the source.

Looking at her now, he’s starting to realize why seeing such a large dragon in the sky would frighten the people. While glorious, Ahsoka is a truly terrifying sight. The sun seems to reflect off of the blood orange coloring of her scales, light refracting with the ridge of her back. As high in the air as she is — most likely the cause of the commotion — she only magnifies the sunlight, forcing him to squint just to look at her. From where he stands, he can see two gray mini horns on the top of her head, smaller orange spikes trailing the contours of her spine. The plates on her belly are pure white, leading from her neck down to the top of her tail. The wide span of her wings creates an even larger shadow on the ground below, and he can see the muscles rippling with every flap. The membrane of her wings is the same ashen gray as the claws extending from the tips of her four feet, a soft contradiction to the glaring colors of her scales.

The appropriate response to seeing her flying like this after he very specifically told her _not to_ would probably be something along the lines of anger, but the only emotion he manages to conjure up is awe. Fifteen years after finding her, and he’s still not sure he’ll ever get used to the beauty of seeing his dragon fly. It’s not something she gets to do often, and it’s the first time anyone outside of their small family — consisting of Ahsoka herself, Obi-Wan, Anakin and his mother — has seen her. Anakin should scold her for being so reckless as to expose herself _before_ her ceremony, but he feels the phantom vibration of her euphoria racing through him, and he can’t bring himself to be mad.

She arches her back, flipping playfully in the air, and the light shines briefly on the seven white scales just beneath her left eye. A few of the castle’s servants flinch away, and a sharp elbow digs into Anakin’s stomach, pulling him from his ill-timed wonder. “Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, throwing his companion a cold look, before clearing his throat. Raising his voice only slightly, he calls out, “Ahsoka!”

The response is instantaneous. Azure eyes lock onto him, blinking only once. Her head tips a fraction to the side in curiosity, but she doesn’t move. She hangs comfortably in the air, legs dangling uselessly as her wings occasionally flutter softly to keep her afloat. She knows what he wants — she’s _testing_ him. And any other day, he’d be happy — no, that’s an overstatement. He’d be _willing_ to play along in the game of wills, but today has already proven to be unbearably long, and this isn’t making it any shorter. “ _Come down,_ Ahsoka. _Now._ ”

Even from this distance, he can almost hear the whimper that leaves her throat. A sigh ripples through her body, and she drifts upwards just to dive down towards him. He holds out an arm, watching as her form shifts into a much tinier version of itself, until she’s small enough to perch herself on his arm, wings tucked in at her sides. At this size, the way that she blinks at him loses its challenging quality, and almost seems _innocent._ He loses whatever hard edge he’d taken on before, smiling softly as he lifts a finger to scratch beneath her chin. Her eyes close at the touch, wings spreading wide open as she lets out a noise of contentment.

A rough noise comes from beside them as Obi-Wan clears his throat. “If you are two are done, I believe the queen is waiting.” He only waits long enough for Ahsoka to land herself on his shoulder, then walks away without another word to Anakin. Back turned to him, Anakin doesn’t try to suppress his eyeroll. Obi-Wan can play the stern parent all he wants, but it doesn’t take an expert to see that he only gets testy when he thinks Ahsoka is choosing Anakin over him. It’s not an inaccurate assumption, but that’s another conversation for another day.

Anakin follows as Obi-Wan heads right back into the castle, moving with the type of ease and familiarity that comes from experience alone. His position in the military allows him to enter the queen’s palace more than the average citizen, though he’s hardly one to take advantage of his ranking. As far as Anakin knows, he only comes here when he’s ordered to or summoned, for whatever reason. Come to think of it, they’re only here _now_ because Obi-Wan was summoned.

Anakin doesn’t know why such a big decision as this was made through Obi-Wan, but it’s too late to question it.

“We can’t have people seeing her,” the man in question mentions, as if he hasn’t opened with that line a million times. “Not until the queen knows about her.”

This time, Anakin does fight back the urge to roll his eyes, though that’s only because Obi-Wan chooses that moment to glance back at him accusingly. “I didn’t _tell her_ to go flying by the gates of the palace. She’s fifteen, Obi-Wan, she can make her own decisions.” _A_ _nd if she can’t, she does anyway._ “And they were just the servants. They would’ve found out anyway.”

Obi-Wan slows to a halt, a quiet sigh escaping his lips. Anakin stops behind him, watching the man in confusion. Picking up on something his human eyes can’t, Ahsoka’s wings open, beating softly as she lifts herself from Obi-Wan’s shoulder. She flies to Anakin’s side, but doesn’t land on his shoulder. She hovers in the air for a moment before her body starts to shift again. He hears bones sliding in and out of place as her wings retract into her vertebrae, and her front legs lengthen into arms as the others lose their sharp edges and smooth into the soft curves of calves and knees. The horns on her head disappear into the slope of her blue and white montrals, two lekku resting over her shoulders. The crown of her head is lined by the silver headband she’s most fond of, and white markings take place of the white scales on her face. Her skin stays the same shade, covered in the soft fabric of a red shirt that leaves her midriff exposed, and a matching skirt that stops mid-thigh. Black leggings cover her legs, disappearing into red boots that stop just below her knees. The transition is quick and seamless, but Anakin knows it’s painful.

Her feet touch the ground without so much as a sound, and she turns concerned eyes to Anakin, who can only answer with a shrug. She takes a half-step forward. “Master Kenobi…?”

The sound of Ahsoka’s voice brings a smile — soft and small and all too forced — onto Obi-Wan’s face. He lays a hand on her shoulder. “I’m fine, little one,” he reassures her, though neither Anakin nor Ahsoka believe it. “You have to be more careful with her.” A second passes before Anakin realizes he means him. “Ahsoka is very special.”

“I know that.” He does. There is no one in this world who knows how special Ahsoka is the way that Anakin does. He’s had her since he was her age — no, younger — and has never once doubted her worth. And he thinks—he expects Obi-Wan to understand that, except—

“No,” Obi-Wan murmurs. “You don’t.” Before Anakin can force him to elaborate, Obi-Wan beckons them down the hall. “Come. We’ve kept Her Majesty waiting long enough.” This time, when he starts walking, Ahsoka’s fingers brush the small of his wrist before she pulls back, and wordlessly allows him to lead her. It’s an effortless thing, one that none of them bat an eyelash at. Dragons, like wolves, are tactile by nature, and though Ahsoka is the first one of her kind to be seen here in the last five hundred years, she’s no exception. She craves touch more than humans do, and while she has control over it, she never hesitates to act on those impulses when she thinks one or both of them need the comfort.

It’s when she does things like that — holding their hands when they’re sad, or curling around their sleeping forms when they’re sick — that Anakin is floored by how much he adores her.

The sound of their footsteps fills the long corridors, devoid of any guards. Anakin detachedly wonders where they all are, but trusts them to be doing their jobs without his supervision. It’s unlikely that anyone will try to harm the queen, but that’s not a good enough reason to slack off. Either way, he hopes that today isn’t the day someone decides to lose their mind and stage a coup d'etat.

The walk isn’t a long one; they journey in silence for only a few minutes before they’re approaching large mahogany doors, standing taller than is absolutely necessary. Even Anakin — who is wealthier than most of the people from his village, a benefit of earning his rank in the army — can’t imagine having such outrageous doors, but concedes to the fact that someone of royal status would have no problem with them.

The two guards standing in front of said doors take one look at Obi-Wan, and pry them open without question. Ahsoka’s head tilts curiously, and she looks up at him. “Is the security around here always this lax,” she whispers to him, to which he can only shrug, unease shadowing his expression. He’s only been in the castle twice in his life, but he’s never gotten this far. The security had been airtight, and the guards refused to let him in without an hour’s worth of questions and full body examinations being thrown at him. The queen was precious to everyone in the kingdom; her guards would never slack off to this degree back then.

The more he thought about then and now, the more he doubted the normalcy of the day.

Ahsoka’s hand slips from where it hovered near Obi-Wan’s wrist, hiding behind her back to loosely grab her own. One of the guards nods at them, and Obi-Wan returns the tight gesture, leading his companions into the throne room.

If Anakin thought that the hallways or the entryways were excessive, they don’t hold a candle to the chamber he stands in now. The room itself is almost thrice the size of the room he was waiting in before. The walls are uncomfortably wide, stretching past the limitations of any reasonable design. They’re lined with busts and figurines of kings and queens long passed, sunset reds and sunshine golds dancing along the expansive structures in patterns that seem to hide themselves in the intricacy of it all. The floor is a spotless white, with bright golden lines curling in unfinished spirals here and there.

The throne, impossibly, is the most breathtaking part of it all. It rests on a platform, two steps separating it from the ground. It has a harsh design, with sharp edges and straight lines, meant to showcase the strength of whoever rests upon it. Anakin isn’t sure it fits the current queen, who has only ever seemed soft to him, but it’s not his place to question such a thing.

“Kneel,” a coarse voice commands them, and Anakin bites back the groan building in his throat. Entirely too much of his life has been spent obeying (or ignoring) the instructions of Mace Windu. He could undoubtedly pick his voice out in a sea of thousands, and he’s sure it’s a deliberate move on Windu’s part.

Despite his displeasure, when Obi-Wan and Ahsoka kneel in front of the queen, Anakin does the same. He doesn’t get the chance to do anything more than glance at the woman sitting upon the throne, but he figures he’ll have his chance. “Your Majesty,” Obi-Wan greets reverently, head bowed to the ground. “It’s an honor to once again be in your presence.”

“And same to you, General Kenobi,” a kind voice responds. “Are these the friends you mentioned?”

“Yes, Your Highness. General Anakin Skywalker, and changeling Ahsoka.”

“General,” the queen parrots, light shock lacing her tone. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, General Skywalker.”

“It’s an honor to be acknowledged by Her Majesty,” Anakin replies dutifully, eyes locked on the swirling designs beneath him. He’d give anything to look at the woman he’s sworn loyalty to, only managing to refrain because he knows it wouldn’t end well.

“And you, changeling Ahsoka.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Ahsoka says, glancing unsurely at him. Anakin feels her gaze, but doesn’t return it; he isn’t sure what he can reassure her of. If this all takes a dive for the worse, Ahsoka will have a collar slapped onto her, and will be under the surveillance of the military. Putting a changeling to death is illegal, even for the queen, unless they’ve done something to deserve it. And, even if through nothing more than Obi-Wan’s insistence, Ahsoka has never done anything worthy of being put to death. Anything else is out of their control.

“Please,” their monarch continues, unaware of the anxiety settling in their stomachs, “lift your heads.” After a moment of hesitation, the trio does so. Anakin and Ahsoka glance at each other first, then to the queen. She’s more beautiful and imposing than Anakin remembers. Her dress, all black with lace trimming, covers the length of her arms and legs, diving down in the chest area to leave a bit of cleavage showing and her shoulders exposed. Her hair is in a complicated bun, not a single loose strand out of place, and her eyes are warm but piercing.

It’s odd, how much strength Anakin finds in that one gaze. He’s left with the feeling that the young queen is more than her image would suggest — wiser, maybe.

She offers Ahsoka a pretty smile, leaning forward slightly in her seat. “If you don’t mind, I would love to see your shift. General Kenobi has told me that it’s truly something worth witnessing.”

Ahsoka’s eyes widen in surprise. “Of course, Your Majesty.” With another nervous look at Obi-Wan, Ahsoka stands. The men do the same, making their way to the side of the throne room. Now that Anakin thinks about it, the size of the room isn’t as ostentatious as he had first thought. Every changeling — primarily those with Togruta, Twi’lek, or Rodian blood, rarely those of other races — has to present themselves to the reigning monarch before their sixteenth birthday. Most Twi’leks tend to be smaller, more domesticated animals, and Rodians are typically semi aquatic, but Togrutas are often animals of the wild. And while Ahsoka is the only dragon to present in hundreds of years, there are many elephants and apes that would need more space to shift. The proportions of the room aren’t excessive; they’re strategic.

What he still doesn’t understand, however, is why the room is devoid of guards and nobility. Despite never having one of his own, Anakin has witnessed many presenting ceremonies since he joined the military. The room is usually filled with lords and priests and ministers, guards surrounding the throne and door, as those who are able to observe the ceremony never want to miss it. But, aside from him and Obi-Wan, the only present company are Mace Windu, the queen’s personal guard, her maidservant, and the queen herself. It’s oddly bereft of the usual spectators, and Anakin gets the feeling he and Ahsoka are the only ones who don’t know what’s happening here.

“Just how much have you been telling the queen,” Anakin whispers to Obi-Wan, watching as his ward backs up into the center of the room. Thankfully, there’s enough room for her to transform here, even at her age and full size. She hasn’t botched a shift since she was just a hatchling, and he isn’t worried that she’ll do so now.

“Not nearly enough,” Obi-Wan mutters in response. Anakin can’t really say he understands, but his confusion is pushed to the side as Ahsoka’s bones starts to slip out of place, her face contorting in discomfort as her entire bone structure changes. The wings come first, her skin expanding to the point of almost tearing, shoulders hunching as she forces the appendages out. Nails turn into claws, binding fingers together as they create three on each hand. Even from this distance, he can see the skin of her hand rippling as it grows. Scales glisten as they appear on her skin, clothes dissolving into the white plating that shields her belly. As her limbs turn to dragon legs, her wings flutter, lifting her off the ground. Her body lengthens, and everyone in the room step back as her neck rolls, a roar escaping her mouth. Her teeth have become sharp fangs, horns replacing montrals, and seven white scales replacing face markings. Her body heaves itself into the air, the shift taking more out of her than it would a normal person.

She recovers after only a few moments, slowing the beating of her wings enough to softly land on the ground, head bowed in deference and wings spread out for the queen to see. Soft gasps reach Anakin’s ears, the queen’s entourage staring in unabashed shock. Queen Amidala stares at the dragon in awe and mild disbelief, mouth slightly opened. Shaking hands find purchase on the arms of her chair, and she pushes up out of it, never taking her eyes off of the majestic creature in front of her. Windu scrambles to take her hand as she descends the steps, though she doesn’t pay attention as he does. “Your Highness,” he chides quietly, going ignored even then.

Ahsoka lifts her head slowly as the queen steps in front of her. “She’s gorgeous,” the woman gasps, lifting her hands to lay them on the dragon’s head. She smiles, more genuine and beautiful than the previous ones, softly running her hands over Ahsoka’s scales. “I never thought I would live to see this. We’ve been waiting for centuries, and you’ve finally appeared.”

“Your Majesty?” Anakin blurts, ignoring the unforgiving look Obi-Wan sends his way. Though he bears much respect for Her Highness, it doesn’t make what she’s saying any less confusing. “Did you… know about Ahsoka?”

The ruler’s eyes flicker to him, and he gets the unpleasant feeling that he’s being studied, before she turns her attention back to Ahsoka. “There have been prophecies,” she reveals, much to his chagrin. While he has no problem with prophets and Seers, he isn’t particularly interested in people who dictate others’ fates. “About the last dragon.”

“Last dragon?”

She hums in confirmation. “The one with azure eyes and blood orange skin. The last dragon this kingdom would ever see…” She lets out a quiet laugh as Ahsoka leans into her touch, seemingly amazed by the innocence of the gesture. “The prophecy has been passed down through so many generations, no one ever knew if it would come to pass. Even when General Kenobi told me you were special, I thought…”

Irritably, Anakin realizes that there’s a lot that he isn’t being told. He’s never liked being the one left in the dark, but he hates it even more now, when the secret is centered around Ahsoka. “With all due respect, Your Highness, I don’t see why the prophecy matters.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes snap back to him. “ _Anakin!"_

The queen lifts a hand to Obi-Wan, shaking her head. “It’s a valid statement, General Kenobi. But I’m afraid I can’t tell you everything, General Skywalker. Not because I don’t want to,” she clarifies. “I dismissed the prophecy altogether when I ascended the throne. I’ve forgotten the details. I can have all of the information for you next time you visit, but I’ll need a few days.”

Anakin freezes. Of all the things he’d been expecting, an open invitation to the castle wasn’t one of them. Swallowing his surprise, he searches for something deferential and grateful to say. Neither of those things are his forte, but considering he risks execution otherwise, he’s willing to try. “That would be greatly appreciated, Your Majesty.”

There’s a long pause before she answers him. “There’s one thing I can tell you, General. No matter what,” she begins firmly, meeting his eyes. Her gaze is one of heat, a fire coming to life in the dead of winter, “you have to protect her. Many people would go to dangerous lengths to gain control of a dragon. And others would act out of terror…” Her eyes soften, as if she’s saddened by the very thought of what could happen to Ahsoka. “What she is will remain a secret between everyone in this room. But I can’t contain it forever. Something will slip through, and someone with bad intentions will find out. If that happens, you can’t let them take her.”

Anakin doesn’t need her to tell him that. He’s protected Ahsoka her entire life, and he has no plans of changing that now. Regardless of what rulers or prophets have to say, he will protect her until he takes his last breath. There was never a question about that. But he doesn’t voice these thoughts. All he says, instead, is, “Of course, Your Majesty.”

The fire in the queen's eyes isn’t extinguished — it’s contained, rather, as if someone put a glass over a lit candle. She smiles again, small and satisfied. “I believe you.” She steps away from Ahsoka, accepting Windu’s help back onto her throne. She regards the trio with a warm expression, excitement and glee shining in her gaze as she watches Ahsoka change back into her human form. “I wish all of you well,” the queen says. “And I do hope to see all of you soon. We’ll talk more then. The guards will never give you any trouble when you come. You have my permission to enter as you please.”

Anakin doesn’t understand that. It seems like a lot of special treatment for one inconsequential prophecy, but he won’t reject such a privilege. With Ahsoka and Obi-Wan, he bows once again to the queen, giving thanks for her hospitality and help, then exits the throne room without fuss. “You have a _lot_ of explaining to do,” he hisses heatedly to Obi-Wan, the second the doors shut behind them.

Ahsoka shakes her head exasperatedly, but the older man only sighs. “I suppose I had that one coming.”

“You definitely did,” Ahsoka agrees. “But I just shifted four times in less than forty minutes. If I don’t get food before this interrogation, I’m eating both of you.”


	2. anakin, ii

The three of them squeeze together in a cozy booth at Ahsoka’s favorite diner. Despite the weird turn their day took, she still presented. Being human, neither Anakin nor Obi-Wan ever had to go through the process of presenting, but no one is ignorant to the importance of the occasion. For a large portion of changelings, it’s the first — and, for a number of them, the last — time the queen acknowledges them. Depending on their shift, some of them are offered future careers by nobles or guards who are there to witness it.

The most notable and significant benefit is that once a person has presented, they no longer have to hide what they are. Many people keep their shifts a secret for the first fifteen years of their lives, all too aware of non-changelings with superiority complexes. Some two or three monarchs ago, hate crimes were the norm. Humans murdering changelings — even infants, on the most gruesome of occasions — because they thought they were too dangerous, too unnatural to live, and changelings having to kill in order to survive. And the rulers and nobility all turned blind eyes, claiming that without any witnesses to the crime, no one could be convicted for it — even if the culprit came to them, covered in blood and willing to confess. It was a bloody and terrifying time, one that Anakin was lucky enough to have missed.

Things changed when a nameless king, who is simply now known as the Father, made a decree that deemed the murder of changelings a crime punishable by life-long imprisonment and, if the case permitted, execution. No one took him seriously at first. It wasn’t until another changeling was killed — a little girl who shifted into a lion cub — and he tirelessly hunted down her killer that they realized he meant it. And when he did the same thing for a homeless man who could turn into a bird, and a single mother who shifted into a dog, and a teenage boy who became a lizard, there was a dramatic decrease in the murder of changelings. For once, they had a ruler who actually cared about the minority population, and one who would not let murderers walk free.

Crime persisted, of course. No decree is going to change the mind and action of every person in the kingdom. But it wasn’t as scary to be alive. People no longer woke up expecting to find a dead body in front of their homes. Changelings learned to live again. The Father didn’t change everyone, but he did more than any other ruler ever did. When his family was murdered by his own son, the woman who ascended the throne kept his laws in place. And now, fifty years after his death, the laws were still in place, protecting the lives and rights of the changelings.

In spite of that, the damage was already done. For the changelings who had lived through that time, they grew up with fear of humans, and they taught their children to always be weary of them. The mindset has been passed down through generations, and despite the ensured safety of every shifter in the kingdom, many hide until the queen — as benevolent and strong and protective as the Father — sees them. Walking out of the presentation is a symbol of her acceptance, a defiant declaration that _you can no longer touch me._ With her approval, they find a new sense of strength and belonging, and no longer hide in their homes. They no longer have to live in fear of unacceptance.

Ahsoka, Anakin realizes, may not have that chance, if the queen’s ominous warning is anything to go by. Speaking of—

“What was _that_ ,” Anakin asks, startling his companions.

Ahsoka freezes with a potato curl hanging out of her mouth, glancing up at him, then across the table to Obi-Wan. “What was what?”

“Your ceremony.” He crosses his arms, staring pointedly at Obi-Wan. “What did you say to the queen?”

Obi-Wan, looking far less intimidated or remorseful than Anakin was hoping for, sighs and sets his sandwich down. “It isn’t a matter of what I told her. I informed her that we were housing a changeling, and that it would be best if she presented sooner than later.”

“And this didn’t seem like something you needed to tell _me?_ ”

“It wasn’t about you, Anakin.”

“She’s _my_ dragon.”

“She is her _own_ dragon,” Obi-Wan snaps. If Anakin weren’t so angry with him, he’d agree with that; Ahsoka doesn’t belong to anyone other than herself, and he will never let anyone say otherwise. But in the heat of the moment, he doesn’t give a damn about who’s right or wrong. “And you never listen to me.”

“I do when it comes to Ahsoka!”

“ _No,_ you _don’t._ ”

Before Anakin can bit out another retort, Ahsoka cuts in to say, “Shouldn’t _I_ be the angry one here?” Both men turn to stare at her, and she turns hard eyes onto the both of them. “It was _my_ ceremony. Why are you two getting upset?”

Anakin searches for a response to that, but comes up empty.

Ahsoka’s gaze softens. “It would’ve been nice to know that something was up, but it’s not a big deal. It’s already over, so there’s no point in arguing now.” _This_ , coming from the scrappiest teenager Anakin has ever met. _Yeah, right._ “Master Kenobi, do you know what prophecy she was talking about?”

The anger seeps out of Obi-Wan, the way it sometimes does when it comes to Ahsoka. It’s a perfect example of Obi-Wan “You Should Never Spoil Children or Get Attached to Anyone” Kenobi not practicing what he preaches. While he can yell at Anakin for hours, he can never seem to stay mad at Ahsoka for more than a few minutes. The nepotism would be cute if it weren’t so _irritating._ “It isn’t something many people are supposed to know about,” Obi-Wan answers, his arms folding over his chest. “Like the queen said, it’s been almost completely forgotten. But back in the age of dragons, there w—”

Both Anakin and Ahsoka cut him off with a sharp, “Age of dragons?” Anakin leans forward, eyes narrowed in confusion. “I thought there was only ever one dragon at a time. That’s what _you_ told me,” he adds in an accusatory tone.

Obi-Wan nods, backtracking nonetheless. “Dragons are a rather rare breed,” he says. “The trait isn’t hereditary, nor is it exclusive to one race. No one understands what causes a child to be born as a dragon, or what could be done to prevent it.” He throws a glance to Ahsoka as he says this, as if to make sure he didn’t offend her. Anakin can’t remember the last time Ahsoka was offended anything, actually. She’s usually on the other side of that sword. “No one knew how it happened, or when it would happen. Because they’re rare and unexplainable, whenever dragons appeared, there was only ever one in existence at the time.

“However, many decades before I was born, there were seven dragons in the kingdom.” Ahsoka lets out a mutter of surprise, but Anakin can’t quite make out the words. Obi-Wan can, if the sharp look he gives the girl is anything to go on. “They weren’t the same age or race, and they lived in different parts of the kingdom. There was no connection between them, other than the fact that none of them should have existed while the others did.”

Anakin nods, slowly processing the information. “And that was the beginning of the prophecy?”

“Not quite.” Obi-Wan fiddles with the straw in his drink, stirring ice around clear liquid. His eyes track the straw, as if his mind is far away from the conversation. “It wasn’t until the last dragon was on his death bed that the prophecy was given. There are written records of it that only the reigning monarch is ever allowed to see, but someone who was in the room at the time told others about the prophecy. Over the generations, it’s been changed to such a degree that what I know could be completely wrong.”

“I’m sure you could live with a bit of misinformation,” Ahsoka says, a smirk teasing at her lips. “Anakin always manages to.”

“Wh— _Hey!_ ”

Obi-Wan smiles fondly. “Well, you’re not wrong.”

“ _I am right here._ ”

“The version that was passed down to me was not a very happy one,” Obi-Wan continues, as if Anakin isn’t even there. This shouldn’t happen as often as it does. “It says that as the dragon lay on his deathbed, he saw a vision of the last dragon the kingdom would ever see.”

“One that looks like me,” Ahsoka recalls.

The eldest of them nods. “Very much so. However, things get a little unclear after that.”

Anakin’s brows furrow. “How?”

“There are two ways the story could end for this dragon.” Obi-Wan holds up a hand, his index finger pointed upwards. “The dragon lives at the monarch’s side, serving as a protector and friend for the rest of their days.”

Anakin takes a moment to imagine it. The idea of Ahsoka serving at Queen Amidala’s side until the day one of them died is laughable. While there is nothing wrong with the young girl, she isn’t made to sit at the right hand of a ruler. She doesn’t even like listening to _him_. Her opinion when it comes to authority is that they should only be listened to when they agree with her. She’s young enough that he knows her opinion will change in time, but now? The queen would need a new aid before the first day was up.

He immediately crosses that ending off list of possibilities.

“And the second one?”

Obi-Wan’s expression turns grim before h answers. “One among many, the dragon is slain at the hands of the one they love the most.”

The table falls silent, and Anakin immediately retracts his previous thought. He’ll train her to respect and obey authority himself, if he has to. If Ahsoka being someone’s servant is farfetched, her being killed by someone she loves is unthinkable. He’ll never let that happen. When he took on the responsibility of taking care of her, when he stubbornly refused to give up that egg, he swore he would never let anything happen to her. One thing is certain: he will not let some ancient prophecy make a liar of him.

His eyes lock with Obi-Wan’s, and he sees a similar determination there. It’s an anchoring comfort, knowing that Anakin isn’t the only one willing to do anything it takes to protect Ahsoka. There are many people, he knows, who would give anything for her, but it’s Obi-Wan’s silent vow to stand at his side that keeps Anakin calm. Between the two of them, they can save Ahsoka from anything. Whoever this love is, they won’t stand a prayer.

It’s Ahsoka frustrated sight that makes them break eye contact. “Would you two stop that,” she demands irritably, glaring at them. “I can _feel_ you overreacting.”

Anakin tries to use their bond to see how she’s feeling, but all he feels is the anger written on her face. He pulls back. “Ahsoka, we wa—”

“You want to make sure I don’t get killed,” she finishes. “I know. But how do you know the prophecy is even about me? I’m not the first dragon to look like this, and the chances of me being the last are slim. You’re both freaking out about a prophecy that outdates all of us, and there’s no way to know if it concerns us, or if it’ll ever come to pass. Stop looking at each other like you’re planning on wrapping me up and hiding me from the world. _Do not,_ ” she adds firmly, when Anakin opens his mouth.

Obi-Wan looks between them a few times before his gaze settles on Ahsoka. “You’re right, Ahsoka,” he admits. “We have no way of knowing if it’s about you. At the same time, there’s no guarantee that it _isn’t._ And when it comes to your safety, I would much rather be safe than sorry.”

_Not attached, my ass._

Ahsoka tenses up, as if to argue again, then freezes. The fight suddenly leaves her all at once, her shoulders falling as she leans back in her seat. “Fine. It’s — fine.” She picks at her food unhappily, but doesn’t say anything else.

Anakin watches her for another moment, before looking back up to Obi-Wan. “Does the prophecy mention anything about age?”

“I would’ve mentioned if it had.” If Obi-Wan notices the dirty look Anakin gives him, he pretends not to. “Only the queen has the full thing, Anakin. If the dragon’s age is mentioned, she will know. I wouldn’t worry too much about it now, though. It doesn’t sound like anything a fifteen-year-old would go through.”

He almost argues that. Love doesn’t give a damn about age, and neither does death. But a queen wouldn’t choose a fifteen-year-old to protect her. It wouldn’t make much sense. “So which ending is the real one? Yeah, I know,” Anakin says, already seeing the words forming on Obi-Wan’s lips. “You don’t know the whole thing. _Guess._ ”

Obi-Wan clenches his jaw, but for once, doesn’t pick a fight. “I can’t. It’s not as if I hear one version more than I hear the other. They’re told _together._ It’s the prophecy, Anakin. Either the dragon will live or it will die.”

“Or it could be both,” Ahsoka points out, drawing attention back to her. She meets their gazes evenly. Somehow, she seems the least worried about all of this. “The whole thing has been diluted and distorted since the dragon’s death, right? At this point, we might as well assume that we don’t _anything_ for sure. That _or_ could’ve easily been an _and_ originally. Maybe this dragon lives to serve their king or queen, and then dies at the hands of the one they love the most.” She pauses, bringing her finger to her lips. She presses absentmindedly, rubbing her thumb over the skin. “Or the other way around.”

Anakin gives her a look that would be amused, if not for the worry still weighing on him. “It’s a dragon, Ahsoka, not a phoenix.”

A grin spreads across her lips, ill-timed and infectious. “And who says the phoenix isn’t a dragon?”

* * *

By the time night falls, the three of them are still rather far away from their home back in Coruscant, and much closer to Anakin’s mother in Tattooine. The three of them spend a little over an hour arguing over whether or not stopping there for the night would be a good idea. Logically, yes. It is the best idea. The house is relatively close, and it’s _Shmi._ Anakin loves his mother more than anything in this world, and he always loves being with her. They all do.

What he hates is the sand. And Tattooine is _full of it._

In the end, he’s outvoted. Ahsoka and Obi-Wan are both too tired to travel through the night, and they’ll get home quicker if they head out at first light. Anakin still thinks that traveling through the night would get them there before first light, but Ahsoka promises to fly them home, and he’s easily bought over. He isn’t _happy_ about the arrangement, but there is nothing quite like the feeling of flying. It’s blissful enough for him to compromise.

He’ll even put up with a night with the _sand._

His mother, as expected, is happy to see him and even happier to see Ahsoka. She greets them all with hugs and motherly kisses, and spends at least twenty minutes playing catch up before she lets them head to bed. Anakin and Obi-Wan take up the two open rooms, and Ahsoka is in the room with Shmi. The house is smaller than Ahsoka’s dragon form, much to her chagrin, forcing her to spend the night as a human.

Anakin feels a bit smug, knowing that he won’t be the only one uncomfortable tonight. Perhaps sensing it in him, Ahsoka throws him a mean look and sticks out her tongue at him. Obi-Wan’s hand shoving him towards his bedroom keeps Anakin from gloating, but it doesn’t take away from the satisfaction.

As Anakin strips for bed, Obi-Wan stands at the door. Anakin isn’t sure if he’s watching him or waiting for something. Either way, he isn’t sure he minds. He opens his mouth to make a comment that would undoubtedly elicit an irritated response, but stops when he sees the look on Obi-Wan’s face. “What is it?”

Obi-Wan shakes his head. “Nothing. I’m just worried that Ahsoka isn’t taking this seriously.”

Anakin turns to face his friend, hot Tattooine air pressing against his bare chest. He _hates_ this place. “Maybe not. But until we hear from the queen, it’s not like we really know anything. We have every right to worry, but she’s right, too, Obi-Wan. We can’t do anything about it until we know more.”

Obi-Wan hums his assent, and Anakin waits for the moment to pass. He isn’t good at being the voice of reason. It only works with Ahsoka because he’s older, and thus has more knowledge and sense. But Obi-Wan is older than he is, and doesn’t often let them know when he’s unsure. Anakin always assumed he would like telling Obi-Wan what to do, but this isn’t exactly what he imagined.

After another uncomfortable moment, Obi-Wan nods more firmly. “We’ll go back to see her in a few days. Until then…” He doesn’t finish, instead staring directly at Anakin.

Eventually, he catches on. “ _No._ ”

“ _Ana_ kin—”

“Damn you, Kenobi, _no._ ”

Obi-Wan sighs. “You’re being unreasonable.”

“We are not staying here!” At the sharp look he receives, he remembers the women in the house and lowers his voice, but not his anger levels. “You said _one night._ We are leaving at _first light._ _You said_ —”

“I know what I said,” Obi-Wan snaps. “But staying with your mother for a few days would be wiser than traveling back to Coruscant and having to make the same journey back in two or three days.”

“We’re _flying,_ Obi-Wan, it won’t take that long!”

“Ahsoka is not your spaceship, Anakin, she will not take you everywhere!”

“I’m not _asking_ her to take me everywhere, but flying back and forth is a hell of a lot better than staying here.” Anakin grits his teeth, trying to get his emotions under control. “Obi-Wan—”

“We will talk about this in the morning,” the older man says tersely, a tone of finality in his voice. “It’s late, and neither of us are thinking straight. Rest, Anakin. We will both need it.” He turns on his heel and stalks out of the room, leaving Anakin alone with his rage.

Anakin lets out an angry huff, wishing he had something to throw at Obi-Wan. He will always cherish his closest friend, but he could be so _infuriating,_ at times. How could he even suggest such a thing? He, more than anyone, knows that Anakin would rather die than spend another day here. Yes, it’s convenient, but is convenience worth it? Is _anything?_

He falls back onto his bed, no longer caring that he still has on his pants. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply, willing the silence of his room to comfort him. With every inhale and exhale, he feels his heartbeat slowing to a more manageable pace, and he finds it easier to relax. There isn’t a single sound in the house, and the silence lulls him to sleep, a few minutes after midnight.

A little under ten minutes later, a woman’s scream wakes him up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading, everyone! and thank you, thank you, thank you for all of the feedback, it means the world to me. please leave a comment, if you wanna. if you don't, thank you anyway! you can find me on tumblr @ andrwminycrds, if you have any questions, requests, etc. thanks, again! have a good day!

**Author's Note:**

> sparkfact #1: in this world, they created clothing that could survive the shift, sort of dissolving into the body and coming back out when the person goes back to their human form. this way, they don't have to strip every time they want to transform, nor do they rip all of their clothing.
> 
> whaddup, folks? guess who's back at it again with another shitty au. real talk, i love dragon aus, but i didn't want to go down the httyd route or anything. i wanted to do something original (at least, it is to my knowledge? someone probably has thought of something like this already, but i haven't seen it), and this is the result. there's actually a coherent plot to this, and i swear everything has its purpose, you just have to wait for it. i'm also kind of experimenting with my writing here, because i usually write a lot of internal dialogue and not nearly as much description, but i want to get better at that, so. sorry if some sentences are awkward, bear with me.
> 
> drop a comment if you'd please! you can find me on [tumblr](http://sekhmct.tumblr.com/), if you have any questions or just wanna scream about something. i really do adore all of you, and i hope that you're all safe and okay. my inbox is always open if you want to talk about anything. hope you guys have a nice week, and i'll see you on the flip side.


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